


Baby Tony Stark

by HeylelAndGoldenWings



Series: The Avenger Babies [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cuddles, Daddy!Steve, Fluff, Little!Tony, M/M, Multi, Other, Papa!Bucky, Sad, Tears, daddy!Phil, hurt!Tony, little!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeylelAndGoldenWings/pseuds/HeylelAndGoldenWings
Summary: Tony is NOT a little.  He can handle himself. He does not need Papa and Daddy to take care of him. Nope.





	Baby Tony Stark

Tony is chilling on the couch. Minding his own damned business. Like any  _ normal  _ person could and should do, when, suddenly, somebody knocks on his door. He groans, not wanting to deal with anybody (he’s maybe slightly drunk, but oh, whatever.  If it’s Steve or Bucky at the door, he’ll be in big trouble, but that’s okay, he can totally handle that) at the moment. He opens his door a crack, relaxing only slightly when he realizes it’s Clint who’s beaming up at him with joyful eyes. 

 

“Tony, will you play?” The boy asks happily, stretching on his tiptoes to show Tony two toy dolls, one that looks suspiciously like Tony and another other one with close resemblance to Peter Parker. And oh, no, Tony really doesn’t want to be thinking about Peter right now. God, if that kid knew what kinds of things Tony did behind closed doors, the poor boy would probably  _ burn  _ his suit. 

 

“Clint, I’m sorry, but maybe not right now. I’m really-“ he pauses to swallow the bile that starts to rise in his throat, and god dammit, he shouldn’t have drank that much fucking alcohol. Tony shudders, eyes fluttering shut for a second to make sure he’s at least somewhat stable, and then forces a smile onto his face as he blinks them open again. “I’m really tired. Why don’t you play with your daddy?”  

 

Clint makes a face at that, sticking up a  _ certain  _ finger. Tony can’t help but laugh, because, of course, out of either of them, Clint’s gotta be the first to break the ‘no swearing and no substitutes for swearing’ rule. “Daddy is doing work and told me to go play with you.”

 

Tony sighs. Of course Phil told Clint to come play. But the thing is, Tony isn’t  _ little  _ right now. He doesn’t want to be. He wants to be big and wallow in all his problems by drinking more alcohol until Steve and/or Bucky comes in and tells him, ‘no, Tony. You can’t do that. Come on, baby, let’s get you showered and maybe I’ll even read you a bedtime story and give you cookies  if you drink your warm milk like you’re supposed to.’

 

Okay, so maybe he does want to be little. But not without Steve and Bucky. And currently, he doesn’t know where Steve or Bucky even are.  The blonde and brunette had been gone all day, and Tony can’t help the panic that’s slowly been drowning him since he woke up. 

 

“Clint, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to say no. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

 

Clint looks so sad, like he might start crying, but Tony holds strong to his words. “Your daddy will be done with work soon, I promise.”

 

Clint pouts adorably, but turns away and stomps off. God, is Tony that bad?  _ No, you’re worse,  _ Tony tells himself, shoulders slumping. More alcohol. Right. He’s going to have one hell of a headache in the morning. 

 

Tony just barely pries the fridge open and grabs the first bottle of booze he can get his hands on(oh god, his fingers are shaking, that isn’t normal, is it? no, no it ISNT.  _ IwantdaddyIwantpapaIwantdaddyIwantpapa  _ churns through his mind) when somebody knocks on the door. Tony jumps, startled, and the glass falls from his hands, crashing onto the floor. He shrieks as one of the shards slices his foot, and suddenly he’s  _ sobbing  _ because ohgod that hurts  _ hurtshurtshurts.  _

 

“Tony!” And it’s Steve at the door, his daddy, his daddy is here now and it’s okay  _ it’s okay.  _ “Sh, sh, it’s okay, sh, baby.”  Yes, that’s definitely his daddy. He breaks down a little more. And now he’s going to be in trouble on top of it all ohno ohno he doesn’t  _ want  _ to be yelled at. 

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break it, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drink anything, it just kinda happened, ‘m sorry!” And his words start to slur off, not because he’s drunk (he really isn’t anymore, the scare had taken away that novelty) but moreso because now he’s definitely little and his foot is bleeding  _ sososo  _ much and he’s going to die. He doesn’t want to die. 

 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Daddy whispers in his ear, and Tony leans against him, just bawling.  “I gotta pick you up and look at your foot, okay, doll? It’s gonna be okay, just need you to calm down.”

 

Tony was not going to calm down. He was going to die. How could his daddy ask him to calm down when he was going to  _ die? He wants you dead,  _ Tony hisses to himself, which triggers a fresh new wave of tears. Maybe if he just keeps apologizing his daddy will want him to live, so he takes a gurgling breath and forces out between sobs, “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” 

 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s being placed on a closed toilet and his daddy is bending down beside him and looking at his feet. The bleeding has slowed but not stopped. He’s still going to die. But more slowly. He doesn’t want to die slowly. 

 

“Baby, it’s okay,” Steve shushes him once more.  “You don’t even need stitches. Let me just get some gauze, and it’ll be okay.”

 

And then Tony’s foot is being wrapped in gauze, and daddy is picking him up again.  Another pair of hands gently caress his head, and it’s okay, Papa is here, too, now. 

 

“Hey, doll,” Papa murmurs to him. His daddy gently sets him down onto Papa’s lap, and suddenly Tony is being peppered with kisses from both of his caregivers/boyfriends. “Quite a scare, yeah?”

 

Tony nods up at Papa, reaching forward to play with his hair. He likes Papa’s hair. It’s long and smooth and silky and soft. “Well, sunshine, how about Daddy goes and warms up your milk and you stay here and cuddle with Papa, hmm? And then we can watch cartoons.”

 

“Wan’ cookies.”

 

“I think we can make that happen, too, my little hero.” Papa presses a kiss to his nose and grins. 

 

Tony blushes, glancing around for Daddy, only to find him-

 

gone. 

 

Before he can get worked up, though (Papa must see the way his eyes flash with panic) hands are cupping his cheeks and turning his head so he’s looking straight into Papa’s eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. Daddy will be right back.” 

 

Turns out Papa isn’t lying. Seconds later, Daddy is lumbering into the living room with a glass of milk in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. Tony turns around on Papa’s lap so he’s facing away from him, but leans back against him anyway, wanting to feel Papa against him. To make sure he’s really here. 

 

Steve asks JARVIS to turn on some cartoons, and soon enough Tony is forcing the milk down his throat. Papa’s nose is nuzzling Tony’s neck in a comforting way, and Daddy is holding Tony’s hand and rubbing circles against his palm with his thumb. 

 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ he’s finished the milk, and makes grabby hands for the cookies. Daddy chuckles, hands him one (a really really big one) and he nibbles at it as if it is a delicacy. 

 

All too soon, he’s done with the cookie. Papa scoops him up, and Tony clutches onto him. He resumes playing with Papa’s hair, tugging on it a bit, but not too hard. 

 

He lets his forehead flop against Papa’s shoulder. He must have dozed off, because when he wakes, there’s water running somewhere. He instantly jolts up, eyes wide. 

 

“Sweetie, it’s alright,” his daddy comforts. Tony blinks in confusion, then registers that he’s still in Papa’s arms and that he’s in the bathroom.  And that Daddy is running a bath. He whines at the thought. He doesn’t want to get in the water. 

 

“Sh, little hero. It’s going to hurt your foot a little bit, but we need to get you cleaned,” Papa tells him, not unkindly, as Tony wiggles closer to him. 

 

After a few moments, the gauze is being taken off his foot very slowly, so he doesn’t get hurt. Then Daddy is lifting up up by his armpits and gently placing him in the tub. 

 

Tony flinches. Tears spring from his eyes as the hot water stings his foot. “Nonononononono!” He bursts out, struggling to get out of the tub. “Owie! Hurts! It hurts!”

 

Daddy slides in right after him, pulling Tony’s back to his chest. He strokes his arm, hums to him quietly, and eventually Tony stops fighting back. Tears still stream from his eyes, but he’s still, now. 

 

Papa climbs in, grabs a sponge, and starts to wash Tony off. The boy yawns, curls closer to his Daddy, and drifts off. 

 

Tony doesn’t wake until morning, finally, finally sleeping peacefully. 


End file.
